


wrong was made for you to be

by dysprositos



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fae, M/M, Miscommunication, Unrequited Lust, Victim Blaming, anti-sex-worker slur, culture clash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-08-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dysprositos/pseuds/dysprositos
Summary: Humans don’t do this; humans don’t refuse to go into their boss’s office, human bosses don’t make advances on their human employees right out in the hallway. Jon tilts his head. “What’s in it for me?” he asks, as lightly as he can manage, knowing Elias hearsMake me an offer.Make it okay. Make itcivilised.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	wrong was made for you to be

_Seelie_ is derived from _seemly_ , Jon was taught in primary school. This is untrue but the two words might as well be synonyms in the eyes of the law. In the eyes of society. In the eyes of Jon’s coworkers, however progressive the Institute was as a workplace, as Elias Bouchard happens to open the door to his office just as Jon is passing by and reaches out and encircles Jon’s wrist possessively with his thumb and forefinger.

“Jon.”

 _Seemly_ means _not jumping to conclusions,_ Jon reminds himself as his pulse flutters in his wrist like a bird in a net. “Elias,” he says cautiously, giving his wrist an experimental jerk. Elias does not let go.

“Why don’t you come into my office? We can... celebrate your promotion.” Elias fails to let go after two further tugs. Conclusions are now warranted.

 _Seemly_ means _not making a scene._ The poisonous response Jon _wants_ to make catches in his throat as he feels the weight of judging gazes, not just Elias’s. Humans don’t do this; humans don’t refuse to go into their boss’s office, human bosses don’t make advances on their human employees right out in the hallway. _Seelie fae make do._ Jon tilts his head, twists his lips into an approximation of a smile. “What’s in it for me?” he asks, as lightly as he can manage, knowing Elias hears _Make me an offer._ Make it okay. Make it _civilised._

“Are you sure you wouldn’t feel more comfortable discussing this in my office, Jon?” Jon shakes his head stubbornly. “I wouldn’t mind _celebrating_ out here, I suppose, if you insist on it,” Elias muses, squeezing his wrist, but Jon has placed too high a price on himself before for _privacy_ to be an acceptable offer. Even, ah, under the circumstances. “Five pounds.”

“I’m sorry?” He can’t have heard right.

“What’s in it for you, if you celebrate with me. Five pounds sterling.” Elias smiles, letting Jon in on the joke.

The audacity of it is breathtaking, but then, he’s still stood in the hallway, still caught in Elias’s grip, still pinned down by the curious and disapproving stares of their human coworkers. Waiting to see the civilised facade crack, as always. _Seemly_ means swallowing down nausea and indignation and settling for a venomous glare through half-lowered eyelashes, means pretending the hand around his wrist is fae courtship at its most inhuman—but in an entirely civilised way—and not a threat. A promise. A—Jon catches a sob before it can escape— _best alternative to negotiated agreement._ “It’ll do,” Jon says with a haughty sniff, and doesn’t resist when Elias pulls him into his office, when Elias pushes him down—

  


Later, Tim Stoker storms into the Head Archivist’s office, Jon’s office, and demands, “Elias Bouchard?” like it’s a complete question. With their history, perhaps it is.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

“I’ve defended you, you know. When the others have said, _You know what fae like him are._ ”

 _Why don’t you just ask him his price?_ Jon fills in the rest; he’s heard it before. No need to ask what’s meant by fae _like him_ ; he’s never been able, will never _be_ able, to fit in the way Elias does, effortless charisma, friendliness, _you could forget he’s not human_ rather than the _credit to his race_ that Jon can earn on his best behaviour, at his most helpful.

Tim continues. “I told them you _weren’t like that_ , you were _different_ , that I’d—anyone would have to woo you properly”—the human way, he means—“to get anywhere with you. That you weren’t _for sale_.”

Jon cuts through Tim’s rant. “Elias made a compelling offer.” _Don’t ask what it was._

Tim snorts. “Yeah, I heard. Did you get a money order, or did he just pay in spare change?”

“Tim—”

“Five fucking pounds. You know, it’s funny, when I told them you were _different_ , what I didn’t realise was that you were _cheap._ ” Jon looks at him with patience and calm that he doesn’t feel (unspoken humiliation and anger taste like bile and Listerine) as the word Tim isn’t saying sits between them like an unexploded bomb, Jon unable to think of anything to defuse it. And that silence, in the end, is what sets Tim off: “Or maybe I’m underestimating you. The promotion a part of it?” and Jon can _not_ let that stand.

“I got the promotion through my own intelligence and dedication. Elias—” he takes a deep breath—“Elias Bouchard is, is _strong_ and _powerful_ and _understands how I think_ , and above all, he’s _imaginative._ ” Jon doubts any fae can compose a list of traits that more clearly screams Threat, but is there anything more oblivious than a rejected human? The set of Tim’s jaw says no. “Meanwhile, you— _you_ come in and call me a cheap whore”—oops, well, never accuse Jonathan Sims of leaving things unsaid—“well, if that’s a sample of the famous Stoker charm that’s supposed to leave me so weak at the knees that I’d swoon into your arms at a 100% discount, you can damn well keep it! Unless, what, is accusing me of sleeping my way to my current position some kind of _romantic_ human dating ritual I’ve previously overlooked?”

Tim takes deep breaths, making Jon the irrational yelling one (the first one to actually raise his voice, he realises belatedly, and the one who brought up Tim’s erstwhile campaign to seduce Jon), which is, you know, exactly the image he wanted to project to Sasha James in the next room. “I just don’t think,” Tim says eventually, “that’s it’s... appropriate for you to be sleeping with Elias. That’s all.”

“Well, you can bring it up with FR,” which at a company run by a fae is a much politer way of saying go fuck yourself, and Jon isn’t feeling that polite, “or I can bring it up to Elias the next time I’m in his office and my mouth isn’t full.” God, let there not be a next time. “Is that all? I have an archive to run, you know.”

That is all.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] wrong was made for you to be](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26170984) by [Yvonne (connect_the_stars)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/connect_the_stars/pseuds/Yvonne)




End file.
